They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. "The Captain has seldom much appetite," replied Blueskin, who, having disposed of the fowl, was commencing a vigorous attack upon the sirloin.
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