\" \"Would you like me to carry some of the books? I have nothing to bring home today. " "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. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. I'll try to think better of him in future.
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