The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. Sydney Courtlaw, live here, please?” Anna asked him.
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