He sat down. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. I must see if I have a gown fit to wear. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. “I feel quite sure that Mrs. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects except that it was destitute even of a barrack-bedstead, the Red Room was reserved for state-prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the jail, as has before been mentioned, was crowded by the Preston rebels.
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