"To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. Do you know what? You're some sea goddess and you're only fooling us. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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