A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. She isn't used to cities. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. . He grunted, and his grip gave. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth.
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