. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn.
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