He knew what he knew. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. The fates are never so kind to me. Be off!" "Jack!" exclaimed his unhappy parent. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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