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Montressor’s guests were. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “I’d have to sneak out after everyone was asleep. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. 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. "I can't see him. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. The doctor's lessons, perhaps delivered with too much serious emphasis, had destroyed that buoyant confidence in her ability to take care of herself. “Homely?” “Well, yeah, that’s what he said.
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