He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. " "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. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. Do you see the time?” “I may come and see you?” Ennison asked, as his hand touched hers. " "You mustn't talk. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely.
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