" "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. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity.
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