Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight. It began as a joke. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. He donned his winter coat. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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