He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. ‘But you are idiot. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. "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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