"You won't refuse it, Mr. . "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. . The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky.
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