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Besides, a wealthy despot, with no conception of any hum around him, will have the wags in his track as surely as the flexibles in front: they avenge his exactions. Fleetwood was honestly unaware of ridicule in the condition of inventive mania at his heels. Scheming, and hesitating to do, one-half of his mind was absorbed with the problem of how now to treat the mother of his boy.
His theoretical views of marriage were still unorthodox; he held at least that "the institution might with advantage admit of certain modifications." But nine years before in the preface to Fleetwood he had protested that he was "the last man to recommend a pitiful attempt by scattered examples to renovate the face of society."
"In Heaven's name, hold me back!" shouted a voice, which Captain Fleetwood thought he recognised as Bowse's. The old pirate threw himself back with all his might, in the hopes of overbalancing the man whose arm he held, and dragging him with him.
Chummy was pardoned when they separated at night for his reiterated allusions to the temptation of poor Ambrose Mallard's conclusive little weapon lying on the library table within reach of a man's arm-chair: in its case, and the case locked, yes, but easily opened, 'provoking every damnable sort of mortal curiosity! The soundest men among us have their fits of the blues, Fleetwood was told.
To undermine his power, Fleetwood ordered two regiments of horse attached to the Scottish army to return to England; and the republicans, when the military commissions were issued by the speaker, removed a great number of his officers, and supplied their places with creatures of their own.
Fleetwood would have declined the proffered hospitality, on the plea of being anxious to return to his ship; but his host insisted on having the refreshment brought in, observing, "It is the custom in the East, remember, to eat salt together as a sign of amity, so you cannot refuse me."
At last, he threw up some small stones, and after numerous efforts, one entered the casement. "Who's there?" said a voice, which he recognised as Raby's. "Ione" replied the captain, in a loud whisper. "Is it you, sir?" exclaimed the midshipman, to whom the answer was familiar. "I'll be down at the door directly." And Fleetwood heard him hurriedly descending the steps.
In consequence, she spoke of him with a pleading warmth to the Countess Livia, who had come down to see the admiral 'concerning an absurd but annoying rumour running over London. Gower was out for a walk. He knew of the affair, Mrs. Carthew said, for an introduction to her excuses of his clothing. 'But I know the man, said Livia. 'Lord Fleetwood picked him up somewhere, and brought him to us.
Kent turned and looked at her, himself rather startled by the unexpected collision. Involuntarily he threw out his hand to steady her. "How do you do, Mrs. Fleetwood?" he said, with all the composure he could muster to his aid. "I'm afraid I scared you. My nose got to bleeding with the heat, I guess. I just now managed to stop it."
You go upstairs and help him to find his clothes. Then take him over to London. The Fleetwood steamer is still running. If you can get him out of Belfast and lay him down safe and sound on his own doorstep the Government will be so grateful that they'll very likely make you a stipendiary magistrate." "But supposing he doesn't want to go?" "You'll have to make him," I said. "How?" said Godfrey.
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