‘Oh, peste. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all. Give me but leave to try. At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. Mr. Martin's on Ludgate-hill, and Christchurch in Newgate Street, were also distinguishable. The chair was torture.
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