Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight.
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