Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. "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. Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door. I made the pies.
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