Womanhood is sacred to me. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. Winifred screamed.
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