" "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. His literary instincts were reviving. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue.
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