Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. It was my destiny to have her. Nothing. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was.
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