Jack who had not been in a place of worship for many years was powerfully affected. " "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. It isn’t all. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. One who—who—tres. Mr.
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