150 “Homely. And Pottiswick, of course. For a few moments Mr. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. “You are so sweet, Lucy. " "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. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head.
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