There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter.
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