The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. " There was a brief, breathless pause.
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