" "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 stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well. Here, take this youngster, Terry; my legs are lighter than old Nab's. Gerald frowned. She came to befriend the female mistresses, some who were even so audacious as to bring their children into the house.
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