Ramage back his forty pounds. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner.
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