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" "May be not," replied the old sailor, drily; "but you'll find it too stiff for you tonight, anyhow. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. That's a queer yarn.
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