After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Jack who had not been in a place of worship for many years was powerfully affected. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk.
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