“Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. ‘All right, Trodger. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. “He seems like such a nice boy. Now, Sir. " "Ah!" ejaculated the widow, hiding her face. She rose to the fire to stoke it.
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