His brain reeled. He has no imagination, no real generosity. With Jack so badly injured, how would she get him home? How get herself home, now that Trodger had arrested her. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities.
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