‘I want a word with you, my lad. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. Fifty sent home. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. You don’t know what you’re saying, and I hope you never will.
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