Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. "Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. . "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears.
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