" Finding it useless to struggle further, Mr. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. You'll find me at supper. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried.
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