"See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. " "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 made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. Sheppard, distractedly. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother.
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