" "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. . A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears.
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