His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. "What's the matter?" he cried. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob.
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