He saw the sea of waves, long dark waves rising and falling, dark under the moonless night. --Here you are! said MacCann cheerily. His evenings were his own; and he pored over a ragged translation of THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. They lived in Clane, a fellow said: there were little cottages there and he had seen a woman standing at the half-door of a cottage with a child in her arms as the cars had come past from Sallins.
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