" "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. Wood required little pressing. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. And now, come and sit by me, my dear, and let's have a little quiet chat together. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. He paced faster, stomping around.
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