Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. “I will be off,” she declared. There were three other ships at anchor; but as two would be making Shanghai and one rounding to Singapore two days hence, it was logically certain that no fugitive would seek haven in one of these. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms.
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