The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts.
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