His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood. Manning, in his entirely different dialect, indorsed her brother Roddy’s view of things. Blueskin goes with me.
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