" "Never fear, Sir," replied Marvel. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. ‘Gérard is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering. Sepulchre's. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. And the hunter home from the hill. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. Ask your own conscience. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane.
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