"Glory be! It's find ye alone I do," he spoke in rich Irish brogue. "It's trill ye a chune I did from the copse, yonder, so's to soften the hard heart of ye, Caleb. It's dhry I am as a last-year's chip, an' me little jug do be pinin' fer a refillin'.",
"It seems to be the only thing that helps," gasped Landon as he swallowed the draught.,
As he left the pine grove for the main road he discerned a lone figure standing on the Causeway, with head lifted and turned towards the still faintly glowing west, and his footsteps quickened..
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