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"Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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