But Jack and his companion were already gone. “Lucy, I have to talk to you. "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. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening.
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