"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. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. Are you going to have any apple-tart, Stanley? The apple-tart’s been very good lately—very good!” Part 7 At the end of dinner that evening Ann Veronica began: “Father!” Her father looked at her over his glasses and spoke with grave deliberation; “If there is anything you want to say to me,” he said, “you must say it in the study. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged.
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