The hurricane had now reached its climax. ‘Never mind where. "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. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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