"Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow.
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