’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. You can live just about how you like. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. The Supper at Mr. Some doting parent had taught him well.
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