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She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. Or run me through. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. She saw how overworked he was. 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. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. She was, she guessed, close to the library.
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