’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. Ramage. The sight o' your 'andsome phiz allys does me good. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home. Take your half loaf with the others.
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