"Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. ” “It is,” Annabel answered shortly. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. Mike chimed in. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up.
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