"Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. You make yourself charming for help. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver.
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