“She’s all right. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. Wood, (for I never do anything without consulting my better half,) I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter.
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