“Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. " "So she may," returned Jack, brightening up; "it's a good idea.
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