"Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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