The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. " "Constance alive? Impossible!" ejaculated Trenchard. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. " "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. ” The lady in black satin appeared undecided.
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