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“It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. " "For procuring my imprisonment?" "For saving your life. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. Happen what might, he could not be in a worse position. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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