“My word holds,” she said. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “I was sick of the make-believe. While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway.
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