"Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. Bon. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty.
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