On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. ’ ‘But you are not a surgeon,’ protested Melusine.
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