Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. “What do you think of them?” Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking. It was a sovereign easily earned. "Will you plead?" demanded Wild, harshly. His face turned a dark crimson. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. And for me there is only one treasure-house. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. Och! many a mug o' bubb have I drained wi' the landlord, Joe Hind.
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