‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry.
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