“I have come for an explanation,” she said. “Well?” “I don’t care a rap for all these things. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. "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. Please tell me what your terms are. I have no intention of allowing you to depart in a hurry. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted.
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