When I'm alone I don't mind. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. "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. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. ‘I can take care of myself, bête.
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