"He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. " "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. Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands.
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