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The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was. 1. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. ’ ‘I was merely drawing your attention to the odd prevalence of French émigrés claiming English antecedents. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously.
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