" "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun.
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