John’s demeanor shifted. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. "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. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink.
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