“I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. "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. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. ” “Bring me a whisky and soda, and a box of cigarettes,” Ennison answered, “and then leave me alone, there’s a good fellow.
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