A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. Retreating as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment, fortunately discovered a skreen, behind which he crept. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked.
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