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"That ain't my fault!" bawled the man at the receding figure. So Billy watched her passing like a ray of soft light across the valley and around the golden curve of the road. Then with his arms on the bridge-rail, his eyes gazing deep into the amber depths of the water, he lived anew every moment of her nearness, until the hoarse, joyful cry of a crow broke in on his reverie. Croaker, having grown lonely, had come down to meet him. "Mary," said the man, "I guess neither of us understand Billy and maybe we never will, quite. I've often tried to tell you how much your willin'ness to face this life here meant to him and me but I'm no good at that sort'a thing. I just hoped you'd understan', that's all.".

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They met Lieutenant Tupman of the Saucy brig-of-war, a large, fat, purple, smiling man, with the word grog written in small red veins over his nose and parts of his cheeks: obviously a good-natured, drunken fellow who would fight, no doubt, if a Frenchman opposed him, but who preferred his bed and "The Swan" to frequent sentinel cruisings in his little ship of war. Both gentlemen knew him slightly. They ventured on this occasion to stop and accost him. They asked him if it was true that news of a French cruiser being off the coast had come to hand, and he answered that he had not heard of such a ship being near the coast. "Lord forbid! She is too God-fearing, and too nobly and sweetly moulded as a woman to be capable of any such descent." "Seen a what, your Anner?" The Admiral missed the sea; he was near it, nay, in heavy weather within sound of it, but not a glimpse of the blue deep could be caught through the windows. He had retired on a pension and on trifling private means which rendered this retreat the fittest he could have chosen for the convenience of his purse and for the simple tastes of his life. Here he lived with an old servant and a young girl, and now with his son; but he was always hoping that this last obligation would not be continuous, though the prospect of getting anything to do in such an obscure corner of the earth as Old Harbour Town was as remote as the possibility of Mr Lawrence ever becoming Prime Minister of England. Yet a secret hope, an indeterminable dream, one of those imaginations which make blessed the possessors of the sanguine temperament, buoyed the Admiral. Who could tell? Something might happen! Walter might fall in with a man who should prove a friend, even in that very haunt, "The Swan," which seemed obnoxious to his interests. Thus the old fellow would reason without logic, or even knowing what he was talking to himself about..