“Mine is a primitive and unstudied manner. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. Spurlock to keep to the bungalow until the rogue goes back to Copeley's. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. .
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