“I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. ‘Poor Gerald has been very busy about your affairs this last week. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. "Your son," answered the boy.
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