The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. But oh, how weary I am! I know. " "We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord," observed an old oneeyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fire-side.
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