"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. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. ’ ‘But you must want more. " "By depriving him of 'em, eh! But I'm sorry you hurt his lordship, Terry. Which, if we are not all of us very careful indeed, will be stolen from Miss Charvill. To Capes he was almost deferential, and she had never seen him deferential in the old time, never.
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