“But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. . His face will be all I need. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly.
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