Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. "The speedy union of Thames Darrell with Winifred Wood," replied Jack. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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