We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. ” He said.
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