Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my sister’s latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my husband and to myself.
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