" "Wretch!" cried Mrs. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. “Take off your tunic. " "Very well, Sir," replied Sheppard.
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