"Coward!" cried Kneebone. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. It is very sweet of you to have waited for me. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. “Too greasy for me.
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