"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. “Here goes for the new life!” “Here goes for the new life,” he echoed and stood up. \" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece.
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