By this action, Lucy already knew what the answer was. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described.
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