" "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. " While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. She chuckled. ’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Lucilla excitedly, ‘and she has been telling us how much of a friend she was to your mother. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. ‘Nothing. Don't feel fussed upon my account. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. ’ At a quarter past eleven I returned here with this gentleman, Mr.
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