" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast.
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