“I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. "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. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. So, let's think no more about it.
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