’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. "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. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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