"It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. Her heart thudded. I’ll drive you home once my buzz goes away. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. " "Offer them my hearty thanks," replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation.
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