" "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. Yeah, I’m thirty-seven. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses.
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