’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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