We met dissecting dogfish. For a few minutes, Darrell seemed to have the advantage in the conflict. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. He was staring at her, openly gaping. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. White said. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. "I don't know; I really don't know.
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