‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. “It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street.
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