"Let me go first," said Blueskin; "the dogs know me. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment.
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