“Sir John is not at all that sort. I say again, grace à vous. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. 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.
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