A lucky escape. "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. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens.
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