You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, who took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccessful; "you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach. Let us proceed with our tale. ” He stood up with his legs parted in an inverted “V”, puffing up, trying to make himself look bigger. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense.
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