A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. ” “Forget WHAT?” “And I said I wouldn’t. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. Monsieur Charvill, he is also my cousin.
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