" This placard was adorned with a rude wood-cut, representing the unhappy malefactor at the place of execution. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence.
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