. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation.
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