"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. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. The strong potation he had taken, combined with fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted.
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