" "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. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. And yet, Spurlock was afraid of the doctor; so was Ruth.
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