She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. Arrived at her side, it was soon evident, from the throng of seamen in Dutch dresses that displayed themselves, that her crew were on the alert, and a rope having been thrown down to the skipper, he speedily hoisted himself on deck. Anna’s face however was wholly impassive. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. Sepulchre's clock struck eight.
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