The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. I kicked the living shit out of him. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. I fought.
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