And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. 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. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. .
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