“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. "You poor child!" said Prudence. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. ” “It is within yours—if anybody’s,” he answered. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. ’ ‘Oh yes, or walked through the walls, I dare say. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched.
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