" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. ’ ‘You ain’t never!’ ‘Back to your post, Trodger,’ ordered the harassed captain. The likeness was ridiculous. Maybe it’s his loss. "I feel like work," he lied. " "I see. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. " "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror.
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