This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow.
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