“Nothing so base. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. " "My turn comes before yours, Sir," interposed his better half. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
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