58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. "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. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. McClintock was amused. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. I spoke a thought aloud.
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