“I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. And yet it was basically a fine action.
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