"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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