Martin came to the stage from his section, his own
violin in hand. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!"
"Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?"
"Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry
O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Just one thing more. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. ’
‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. There was first the Avenue,
which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an
undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either
side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 29-06-2024 08:32:58