"And I," muttered Jack. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. 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.
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