"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. That's a most damnable lie; and when she finds out, 'tis then she will not forgive.
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