"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Diane replied, “Is there something wrong with that, Michelle? This is my house too, you know. Maggot.
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