"Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. “He looks as though he did, at any rate. And there arose too, a background of shouts. “I believe it is.
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