“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. Mr. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. He died when I was. " "A penny, if you please, Sir," said the hawker. “I did it for love of you,” he said. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. ‘Gérard!’ Before she could react to this new menace, the captain spun round.
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