“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. She would not forgive me. "Ninny! What did we know about Father, except when he was around the house? But where is the girl? She said something about having tea with us.
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