At this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. It's of no use. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. You care for me just a little, I know.
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