The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. An immediate halt took place. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said.
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