—'They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion; 'it's unconstitutional. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs. “Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?" "No, that you can't," answered Mrs. ‘Imbecile. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he.
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