"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. ” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention.
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