"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. I’ll take over here. I have slept with it under my pillow. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward. He had not to wait long. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs.
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