In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. She was to be a Corsair’s Bride. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. .
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