"If I were your father, young gentleman," returned Jackson, enraged at the interruption, "I'd teach you not to speak till you were spoken to. Courtlaw, Mr. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. I won’t try. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. This year—I’ve got it badly. I’ve had my time and lost my chances.
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