‘Quickly! You must get up. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. The momentary alarm over, he threw a piece of-wash leather over a bureau, so as to deaden the sound, and instantly broke it open with a small crowbar. Beethoven; he’s the best of them.
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