‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. At the expiration of an hour, by dint of unremitting exertion, he had made so large a breach in the chimney, that he could stand upright in it. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream.
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