"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. " "Are you sure of this?" asked Thames, who, though as brave a lad as need be, could not repress a shudder at the intelligence. The expression was wholly different.
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