Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. His chin was angular and his lips were 16 small, his mouth tiny and refined. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet.
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