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The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. No, don’t interrupt me. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. She entered and approached the bunk. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. Lucy looked about confusedly. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.
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