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It was in vain that he attempted to accost her; his confusion, her pleasure, his timidity, seemed to unite in rendering him incapable of speaking at all. His lips moved several times, but the words, as they arose, died away unspoken. "Come, boys death-alive, the day's passin' only think.
I wish that filly of ours was dockt; you ought to spake to Jim M'Quade about her: it's time to make her up you know, we'll want to sell her for the rint." This was an assertion, by the way, which Ned knew to have everything but truth in it. "No; but I hope we won't be long go." "Well, any how, we wor in luck to buy in them three last rowls." "Eh? in luck? death-alive, how, Ned?"
"'Where did I come from, is it? answered Jack; 'why, death-alive! did you never hear of ould Ireland, my jewel! hem I mane, plase your ladyship's honor. "'No, she answered; 'where is that country?
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