He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. "Another moment, and it'll be too late. We'll try whether he'll get loose again. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care.
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