Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance.
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