’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. The girl’s eyes never left his face.
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