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Knag, wrestling with the supernumeraries.
‘Don’t think of such things, dear,’ answered the chorus.
‘I hate her,’ cried Miss Knag; ‘I detest and hate her. Never let
her speak to me again; never let anybody who is a friend of mine
speak to her; a slut, a hussy, an impudent artful hussy!’ Having
denounced the object of her wrath, in these terms, Miss Knag
screamed once, hiccuped thrice, gurgled in her throat several
times, slumbered, shivered, woke, came to, composed her head-
dress, and declared herself quite well again.
Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings, at first, in perfect
bewilderment. She had then turned red and pale by turns, and
once or twice essayed to speak; but, as the true motives of this
altered behaviour developed themselves, she retired a few paces,
and looked calmly on without deigning a reply. Nevertheless,
although she walked proudly to her seat, and turned her back
upon the group of little satellites who clustered round their ruling
planet in the remotest corner of the room, she gave way, in secret,
to some such bitter tears as would have gladdened Miss Knag’s
inmost soul, if she could have seen them fall.