Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. She turned a resolute face southward. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you.
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