"Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. “No, no, no. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. The room in which he was detained—that lately occupied by the Mohocks, who, it appeared, had been allowed to depart,—was calculated to inspire additional apprehension and disgust. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. " "Surest thing you know.
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