But his grief was of short duration. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. " "'Sblood!" cried Jackson, rising, "I can't sit still and hear Mr. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so. " CHAPTER VI. “Get me some brandy and my bag. Giles's was lined with spectators. What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement.
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