" "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 sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. "The nurses," she answered. " "I should be unafraid to go anywhere with you.
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