Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. " "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. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. The gallows is in view—I see it with all its hideous apparatus!—ough!" and shuddering violently, she placed her hands before her, as if to exclude some frightful vision from her sight. He wanted to talk with the patient, test him variously; and he wanted to be alone with him while he put these tests. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. " "Your esteem is all he will require," urged Winifred.
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