And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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