CHAPTER X. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Only three days. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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