" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. " "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. But it seemed that their presence was not even suspected. He sent me home. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. ’ Captain Roding looked frowningly from one to the other. She crept out of the shadows.
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