"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. But it sounds too real to be imagined. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. He slapped his knee.
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