She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. " "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles.
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