CHAPTER XVII. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him. I'll try a strong dose. " "Wretch!" cried Mrs. Jack was caught, as in a trap, by the pendant tails of Abraham's long frock; and, instead of obtaining his release by his ingenuity, he only got a sound thrashing. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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