” “Sure thing, kid. " "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. It’s—Mrs. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. The Ragged Edge. Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house.
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