‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. Enjoy. But I shan’t try to stop you. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. It would make my wife very happy. ‘Exactement. Her lips parted, but no words came.
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