With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. ToC Mrs. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth.
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