\" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. Only the next of kin. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. You must live for me. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be.
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