"Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy.
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