The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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