Mrs. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent.
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