“Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music. E. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. ” “Served the beast right,” Ennison declared. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. At last he could bear it no longer.
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