You may go back, Marthe. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. ’ Mrs Sindlesham laughed lightly, but her eyes quizzed him. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye.
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