There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. " "My penance forbids it," said Trenchard, waving his hand. "I should be perfectly miserable if I thought you in earnest. She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view.
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