Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. “It’s a new phase in the life history,” he remarked. “It might be a policeman borrowing the driveway and looking out for speeders. They are very good people, you know. An extra pair of gym clothes materialized within fractions of a second. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath.
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