Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging.
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