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Chapter 11

           Whydidn’tsomebodycallme?Oh,thisisashame!" Andheflungthewatchdown,andsprangoutofbed,andhadacoldbath,andwashedhimself,anddressedhimself,andshavedhimselfincoldwaterbecausetherewasnottimetowaitforthehot,andthenrushedandhadanotherlookatthewatch. 

           Whethertheshakingithadreceivedinbeingthrowndownonthebedhadstartedit,orhowitwas,Georgecouldnotsay,butcertainitwasthatfromaquarter-pasteightithadbeguntogo,andnowpointedtotwentyminutestonine. 

           Georgesnatcheditup,andrusheddownstairs. Inthesitting-room,allwasdarkandsilent: therewasnofire,nobreakfast. GeorgesaiditwasawickedshameofMrs.G.,andhemadeuphismindtotellherwhathethoughtofherwhenhecamehomeintheevening. Thenhedashedonhisgreat-coatandhat,and,seizinghisumbrella,madeforthefrontdoor. Thedoorwasnotevenunbolted. GeorgeanathematizedMrs.G.foralazyoldwoman,andthoughtitwasverystrangethatpeoplecouldnotgetupatadecent,respectabletime,unlockedandunboltedthedoor,andranout. 

           Heranhardforaquarterofamile,andattheendofthatdistanceitbegantobeborneinuponhimasastrangeandcuriousthingthatthereweresofewpeopleabout,andthattherewerenoshopsopen. Itwascertainlyaverydarkandfoggymorning,butstillitseemedanunusualcoursetostopallbusinessonthataccount. 

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