Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. And let ush go back to our brandewyn, and hollandsche genever. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. "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.
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