“Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. Saw the villain through the keyhole. ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars.
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