" CHAPTER XIV. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. I believed that our marriage was genuine. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. I’m starving. There is the key.
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