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"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. " "Till midnight," replied Jack. Her desires were not for riches. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ” Somewhat irrelevantly he glanced at the next few boxes where the rest of Mrs. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly.
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