He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. "I've the Bridewell account to settle. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. It was only a matter of time. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. ’ Then I kicked him until he was black and blue. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone.
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