Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. ’ Gerald grinned.
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