“Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. ” “Right,” he answered. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. "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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