"Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia.
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