"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ’ A twinkle crept into Mrs Sindlesham’s eye. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. I've a question to ask him. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly.
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