Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. "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. . . "I'll gibbet the rascal.
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