There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. " "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. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress. She didn’t choose her man. So he decided to stay. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world.
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