“But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. We always go out to dinner on holidays. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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