"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. ’ He became aware of his friend’s face before him. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing.
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