" "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. "Curse you! Where are the bailiffs? Rot you! have you lost your tongue? Devil seize you! you could bawl loud enough a moment ago!" "Silence, Blueskin!" interposed an authoritative voice, immediately behind the ruffian. Play foul, and win. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think.
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