Gerald crossed back to the window. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. Ramage. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. "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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