Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. Wood in a sharp tone. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair.
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