Long Form - Book Demo
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - East Anglia, Cambridge, Hertfordshire) North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Miley was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The rest of his barrel was signed by the clergyman and the clerk. The undertaker, the chief mourner screws signed it. Old Marley was dead as a door. Now screw you know he was dead. Of course you did. How going to be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years the screws never painted out of Molly's name. There stood years afterward above the warehouse store, Scrooge and Marley, sometimes people new to the business card Scrooge, Scrooge and sometimes Miley. But he answered above names. It was all the same to him. Oh, but he was a tightfisted hand of the grindstone Scrooge, a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner, hot and Sharper's flint, from which no steel had ever struck. Generous fire, secretive and self contained and salad tatty as an oyster. The cold within him froze. His old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffen his gate, made his eyes red, It's thin, lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. He carried his own load imager, always about with him. He iced his office in the dog days and in thought, one degree Christmas, excellent heat and cold. A little influence on strange. No warms. Good, warm. So I went to re weather chill him. Nobody ever started in the street to save my DS Scrooge. How are you when we come to see me? The beggars implored him to bestowed trifle on. Your Children ever asked him what it was? Oclock, even the blind men's dogs a beard. Two million And when they saw him coming on, would took the runners into doorways and up courts that would wag their tails, though they said no. Why at all is better than an evil eye? Dark master? Ah, but what a screws care. It was everything he liked to edges Whale on the credit pads of life warning. All human sympathy do gape as distance once upon a time and on all the good days of the year on Christmas Eve. Old Scrooge that busy in his counting house. It is cold leak biting, whether fogey with all, and he could hear the people in the court outside to go using up and down beat in their hands upon their breasts. and step in their feet on the pavement, stones to warm them and the city clocks. It only gets gone three, but it was quite dark already. The fog. The fog came horning in it every *** in keyhole and was seven, dense without the houses opposite women phantoms. The door of scooters cutting house was open that he might keep his eye upon its click, who in a dismal little cell beyond sort of tank, was copping letters. Schools had a very small fire, but the clocks fire. It was so very much smaller than looked like one cold. But he could have replenished or scratch, kept cold box in his own grilled. And so surely as a collect came in with a shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them depart where far the clock put on his white comforter and try to warm himself at the candle and which effort? Not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed. Um, Baracus Bazak. Oh, it was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach. He is so heated himself with the rabbit walking in the fog and frost. This nephew of Scrooge is that he was all in a glow. His face was ruddy and handsome. His eyes sparkled by I'm back Crispus Hamburg. Uncle, You don't mean that. I'm sure I dio Merry Christmas. Come then. Don't be cross Uncle. What else can I be? But I live in such a world of fools Is deaths Matic? That about a medic? Crispus? What Christmas time to you. But a time for paying bills without the money it ever finding yourself. Er rode in an hour richer. Yeah, I work my will. Every idiot it was about me. Any kid dismissed on his lips to be boiled up with his own putting and very of those take up. Hardly. There was hot. I call Dave. You keep Christmas in the round way. Let me keep it in mine key. But But she shall keep it. Good afternoon. Come dine with us, Tomato. Good afternoon. I want nothing from you. I ask nothing of you. Why can't we be friends? Good afternoon. But I'm sorry. With all my heart finding you so resolute I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last So make Christmas Uncle got afternoon and a happy New Year. Good afternoon. His nephew left the room. I stopped at the outer door to bestow the greens of the season in the cloud coo cola Si Wiesel's warm in Scrooge. I returned them cordially as another fellow, my collect with 15 shillings a week and a wife and family tucking up that Merrick Christmas are retired. A bedlam to collect and letting Scrooge's nephew out had led to other B 1,000,000,000. They're a portly gentleman, pleasant to behold and now stood with their hats, often scooters office. They had books and papers in their hands, and they vowed them screws. Malia's, I believe, by the blood of addressing Mr Scrooge or Mr Marley. Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years. That's rich. He died seven years ago, this very night move. No doubt his liberality is well represented by a surviving partner at this festive season of the year, Mr Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute who suffer greatly at the time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries. Hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts. Add in the prisons, Pindi prisons and the union work houses. Are they still in operation? They are still. I wish I could say they were not. The treadmill and the poor law are in full of vigor than with very busy. I was afraid from what you said at first, that something had occurred. Just stopped in in their course. I'm very glad to hear it.