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Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 8 by Samuel Richardson
page 62 of 397 (15%)
Indeed but I won't. The shop shall be mine. Where are they, if a
customer shall come in?

She pointed over my head, with a purse mouth, as if she would not have
simpered, could she have helped it. I reached down the glass, and gave
Will. six. There--put 'em up, Sirrah.

He did, grinning with his teeth out before; which touching my conscience,
as the loss of them was owing to me, Joseph, said I, come hither. Come
hither, man, when I bid thee.

He stalked towards me, his hands behind him, half willing, and half
unwilling.

I suddenly wrapt my arm round his neck. Will. thy penknife, this moment.
D----n the fellow, where's thy penknife?

O Lord! said the pollard-headed dog, struggling to get his head loose
from under my arm, while my other hand was muzzling about his cursed
chaps, as if I would take his teeth out.

I will pay thee a good price, man: don't struggle thus? The penknife,
Will.!

O Lord, cried Joseph, struggling still more and more: and out comes
Will.'s pruning-knife; for the rascal is a gardener in the country. I
have only this, Sir.

The best in the world to launch a gum. D----n the fellow, why dost
struggle thus?
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