See paragraph 1. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. \" Lucy said. “I do mean that,” she declared. " "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.
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