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721 full hour. Everything remaining perfectly quiet, he got into Mr Squeers’s bed, once more, and drawing the clothes over his head, laughed till he was nearly smothered. If there could only have been somebody by, to see how the bedclothes shook, and to see the Yorkshireman’s great red face and round head appear above the sheets, every now and then, like some jovial monster coming to the surface to breathe, and once more dive down convulsed with the laughter which came bursting forth afresh--that somebody would have been scarcely less amused than John Browdie himself. |