"Put your arms about me. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. “Better,” said Ann Veronica, with an unreal alacrity.
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