"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. You'll find me at supper. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna.
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