“I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. I’d come back from the ends of the earth. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Can’t face a scandal. But don’t think your heroic milice will save you.
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