Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. " "Of course," rejoined Kneebone, a little maliciously, "but that's easily accounted for. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate.
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