‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. “I see the pointer,” she said. “I can survive on my own. For a long time neither spoke again. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. "It reminds you of a red sea suddenly petrified. We came on here at once.
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