‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir.
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