Wood trembled. There used to be an after deckhouse and a shallow well for the wheel; but I changed that. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. " "Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but I have others in reserve, not so generally known. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Nasty, damp passages. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. “You are mistaken, David. His statement was treated with derision. " "I understand," replied Thames; "be it as you will.
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