"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ” “Call it what you like,” Anna answered. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe.
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