CHAPTER XII. ’ ‘Woof!’ Sergeant Trodger’s eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he seized his prisoner’s arm again. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. ” She said under her breath. . She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. He did not have to. I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves.
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