"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ” He threw his head back. A species of vertigo seized him. ” “For example?” “Your dyed hair. ” Miss Miniver followed with an expression of perplexity, her mouth shaped to futile expositions. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe. "Oh!" she gasped.
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