’ To Gerald’s relief, the entrance of the butler interrupted them, relieving him of the necessity to explain himself. But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish. . The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy.
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