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Updated: May 20, 2025
'By breakfast-time, said Dick, but still not over-graciously. 'Nothing could be better; that will give us a long day, and I should like a full discussion with your father. You'll manage to send me on to what's the name? 'Moate. 'Moate. Yes; that's the place. The up-train leaves at midnight, I remember. Now that's all settled.
The people are in wild excitement, and all declare that they will not let him be taken. Oh! I forgot, added he. 'You were not here when my father and I were called away by the despatch from the police-station, to say that Donogan has been seen at Moate, and is about to hold a meeting on the bog.
Such crowds of ideas as he poured forth, uttering so rapidly as to keep one quite on the stretch not to miss any of the good things. Half of them, I am sure, I have forgotten, but note for futurity; specially a fair-haired heiress now living, shut up in an old place called the Moate, old as King John's time. Mr. Jones had invited Dr. and Mrs.
'It is dated "Moate Jail, seven o'clock," said Kitty, as she read: "Dear Sir, I have got into a stupid scrape, and have been committed to jail. Will you come, or send some one to bail me out. The thing is a mere trifle, but the 'being locked up' is very hard to bear. Yours always, G. O'Shea." 'Is this more Fenian work? cried Kilgobbin. 'I'm certain it is not, sir, said Dick.
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