It was a brief solitude, however. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. ” Lucy finished Michelle’s sentence and steeled her resolve, drawing herself up to a straighter posture. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms.
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