” “It’s these Rascals,” said Mr. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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