An ugly flush stained his cheeks. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. My vengeance is completely gratified.
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