He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. “I wrote it for you. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand.
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