"Because I shouldn't like to be out o' the vay ven he arrives," returned Abraham, in a jeering tone; "it vouldn't be vell bred. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. I want to get away—to go to London. She snatched about in her mind. When you've admitted him, steal into the room, hide yourself, and don't move till I utter the words, 'You've a long journey before you.
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