“Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. Kneebone was attired in the extremity of the mode. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. ‘Tell me, my boy. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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