" "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. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily. That “entirely English” comment was said just to provoke me. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. . ” “Where?” He asked.
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