‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. "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. ” “No. ” “There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?” “No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire. You observe that I am, as usual, fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe.
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