"So the wheelman told you? I've always spoken it, though I can neither read nor write it. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. " "And have my escapes really made so much noise as to reach the ear of royalty?" mused Jack.
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