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" "Curse your reward!" exclaimed Kneebone, angrily. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Manning, with a sweep of the arm. You steered and I rowed stroke. Hang the wench! Roding was right. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. "What!" she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,—"I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose.
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