He came over to me. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. It was no use. Its shouting now did in some occult manner convey a protest that Mr. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie.
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