At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. “I’m sure we’re all delighted to see you again, Mr. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. For a time Spurlock did not move. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. "Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me.
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