"Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Could you pull over? She asked. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Just as he had succeeded in fixing his attention, it was again shaken, and he was almost unnerved by the sight of Mr.
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