"Constance—or, rather, Mrs. "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. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future.
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