They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. "Let me go," cried Winifred. "But, we'll soon see. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
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