I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. “You love some one else?” he repeated. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, who took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccessful; "you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach.
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