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1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. ” He declared. CHAPTER XXIX. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. ‘She won’t. The McCloskeys had only boys, two that were off in the Service and one that was full grown and had moved down South. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. She had lost it. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose.

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