He can't be far off. I hear the splash in the water—I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide—it will not sink!" "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; "it won't do to indulge those fancies now. Ramage?” he asked. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name.
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