“I think we are growing sensible,” he said. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. "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. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion. " There was a pause. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born.
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