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"Afrikins, behole yer queen!" said she, at the top of her voice, and leaning back so far that the rightful sovereign had a good deal of trouble to keep the chair from going over. "Dat's me!" she cried. "Look straight at me, an' ye see yer queen. An' how you dar', you misribble Hop-grog, to say I no queen! You 'serve to be killed. Take hole o' him, some uv you fellers! Grab dat Hop-grog!"
And now jest tell me afore we goes any further wot you was a-doing, and why you looked so misribble afore I spoke to you that time." "Oh!" said Joe, suddenly recalled to another anxiety by these words, "wot a fool I am to stay talking to you when there ain't a moment to spare. Little Maurice is lost.
You needn't be cold unless you likes; and Cecile, little Missie, we shall go through hall the smallest towns and villages, as you like, and we'll ax for Lovedy heverywhere. But Paris itself is a big, big place. I wor only seven years old, but I remember Paris. I wor werry misribble in Paris. Yes, I don't want to stay there. But we must go there. It seems to me 'tis near as big as Lunnon.
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