‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. And I want you for myself—for my wife. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. 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. He was asleep.
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