Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. And she’s pluck to the backbone. As far as I recollect, there were two. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically.
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