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Except a footman.
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I don't know how Mr Carson managed it
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because his lordship's put his foot down.
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But you're called my assistant now
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and you've seven shillings extra every month.
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You've still kept me here with a dishonest representation.
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Oh, dear! Have you swallowed a dictionary?
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Somehow none of it seems to matter when we're in Dublin.
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Class and all that just seems to fade away.
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I'm Mrs Branson and we get on with our lives like millions of others.
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But here he feels so patronised.
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And he hates it.