She wondered wildly why she had stood up. She is no longer mine; she is yours. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. ’ Her eyes narrowed. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. The ladies were, as usual, very gaily dressed; and as usual, also, had resorted to art to heighten their attractions— From patches, justly placed, they borrow'd graces, And with vermilion lacquer'd o'er their faces.
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