" "Humph!" exclaimed Wild. “I do hope that I shall be able to make it up to you. ” He could feel a small bump where he knew a cavity of smooth flesh should reside. "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. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. . . ” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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