The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. " "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. Teddy handed her into the second-class compartment her season-ticket warranted, and declared she was “simply splendid. I had a perfect shoal of callers.
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