"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. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. “My charm of manner, I suppose.
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