"Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. The three young men exchanged expressive glances.
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