" "I don't object to the likeness, if any such exists, young Sir," returned Jackson, darting an angry glance at Thames; "indeed I'm rather flattered by being thought to resemble a gentleman of Mr. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. " "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. ” She looked at him quizzically. “Thank goodness!” said that retreating aspect, “that’s said and over.
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