The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. "Come along, Mrs. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. Man or woman. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black.
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