He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. He embraced her fully. For a few minutes all was silent. The first Step towards the Ladder VII. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Nasty, damp passages.
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