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He obeyed, talking whimsically to his pets as he went. Balancing her voice on a very high note she popped her head through the dining-room door to speak to her husband. He was seated at the table reading “The Family Herald.” His straggling grey locks were disordered with his mental effort and formed a frieze of irregular design on his shining forehead. Mrs. Wopp’s voice, in a moment, was safe on terra firma. “Jevver see sich a useless boy? Been learnin’ spellin’s orl day, I ’xpect.”.
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Conrad
“She must come to visit us sometime.” “An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp. She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical narrative. “You remember that story about a man who died for love of a girl because he knew he ought not to marry her? I thought that sort kind of noble, but you said there was nobler. Do you remember?” “Why not, I’d like to know? Isn’t this my shack? And shall I let a kid burn up?”.
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