Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. "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. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. We married, and for a time we were happy. " Just then, the infant began to sob piteously. There was something very wrong.
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