" "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. Ruth took hers in the sea, but was careful never to go beyond her depth because of the sharks. The Leads 405 XXI. The three of them laughed joyously.
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