"Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. ‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. It was obvious that he had waited for her. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. Have you ever tried to run and jump in petticoats, Mr. Jonathan nodded assent. "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. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it.
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