Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. It ought never to have begun. " "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. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed.
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