But I don’t suppose you can understand. "Come home directly, Sir. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. You must keep out of the way till it's blown over. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. "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.
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