‘Oh, mon dieu. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. ” The doors at the other end of the hall opened. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone.
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