This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. ‘Come along. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. "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. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted 385 XVII. " CHAPTER IX.
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