She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. She remembered Taber's hat. And she defies me. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. One nail drives out another, it's true; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail.
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