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To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it.
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