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"By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. ” “You have not answered my question,” he reminded her. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man.
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