CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. They had cried a little, both. " "'Sblood!" cried Jackson, rising, "I can't sit still and hear Mr. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. Nasty, damp passages. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. It isn't friendly as I thought it would be.
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