He was nearly wincing. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. " "I have heard sailors use words like that, but I never knew what they meant. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. Enschede—that's a queer name.
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