'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. " Jack again seized the bar, and, dashing it furiously against the door, speedily burst it open. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked.
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