At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before-mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. I don’t want you to talk to me now. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. They fell into step again. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins.
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