“It’s his birthday. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen. She fled. My son went down after his death.
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