And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. Wood!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise. “They never seem so at first!” he said. She goes out and comes home.
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