Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. “You remind me of the story which they tell against us over here, you know—of the Englishman who refused to be saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. He has been a father to me and my child. You look very handsome. Brendon was silent. Annabel shook her head. And experience was slow in coming.
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