There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. Fired with wrath, Spurlock recounted the Canton episode. "Dead!" echoed the boy. " "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold.
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