The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. “My hand! This isn’t the place. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. Now let us forget it. "The long and the short o' the matter's this then," returned Sharples with dignity, "the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. He stood up abruptly and went to the window.
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