" "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. " "Can you make me honest?" cried Jack.
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