" "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. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. I never want you to be ashamed of me.
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