The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. A slow anger burned in the man.
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