"Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. I will shed no more blood. Silk. And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. Her heart thudded. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. Rank ingratitude, I call it. Let him have his honeymoon.
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