She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. An old woman took her in. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Ennison spoke at last. She entered and approached the bunk. "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.
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