Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. He held her eyes. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. Hastily, he reached for the door. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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