"No, Rollo; not this afternoon. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. Jonathan had not deceived him. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer.
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