A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. "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. " And, followed by Abraham, he rushed out of the room.
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