“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. CHAPTER IV. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. ‘You cannot be always with me. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus.
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