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Presently he felt motion. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. I cannot turn into a bat. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both.
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