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"Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. “How are ya, buddy? Good job at the concert. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent.
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