Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly.
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