A quick flush stained her cheeks. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously.
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