" "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them. But I’m always trying to make things happen. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence.
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