"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. "Your answer!" cried Sheppard. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. "You are out betimes this morning, Mr.
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