Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. There'll be a fall of above twelve foot o' water, and think o' that on a night as 'ud blow a whole fleet to the devil.
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