He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. New customs have prevailed over the old. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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