But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "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. I have forgot all about the sword until the capitaine has come. Blueskin fought his way towards it, and exerting all his strength, cutting right and left as he proceeded, reached it at the same time. ’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. Old Newgate.
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