"O'ons! Captain," cried Blueskin, as he grumblingly obeyed the command; "if you've left off business yourself, you needn't interfere with other people. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. He could quite understand the daughter of Mr. Hope reared. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. Give me the chisel, Blueskin.
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