Sebastian howled with laughter, doubling over. CHAPTER XIII. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. .
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