“I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. "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. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little.
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