“Thank God,” he exclaimed. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. “I should really like to find somewhere to stay, if it was only for a few nights. After that night she made it a habit. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline.
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