She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. The man is a stranger to me. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart.
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