“You mean to follow her. "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. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes.
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