"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. ’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. ’ She put in her request for this requirement immediately on returning to the little parlour downstairs, and instantly fell foul of Captain Roding again.
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