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Out behind the wood-shed Maurice Keeler, by the dim light of a smoky lantern, was splitting kindling for the morning's fire when something clammy and twisting dropped across the back of his neck. Here again the fellow paused, apparently striving to find words to produce his picture. "Walk in, Captain Weaver. Pray, take that chair," said Captain Acton. "I can ask you no questions until I make you acquainted with what has happened.".
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Conrad
"Bet ye I am." "Mr Lawrence paints the voyage to the West Indies in very tempting colours," answered Lucy. Neither Captain Acton nor Miss Acton witnessed anything strange in the absence of Lucy from the breakfast table. She was in the habit of taking these early walks, and would often turn into a cottage whose inmates she well knew and breakfast with the occupants, enjoying more the egg warm from the nest, the home-cured rasher of bacon, the pot of home-made jam, the slice of brown bread and sweet butter, the bowl of new milk, or the cup of tea which on such grand occasions would be introduced by her humble friends, than the choicest dainties which her father's cook could send to the breakfast table at Old Harbour House. "Bill," Anson's voice was husky with terror. "You won't let him touch me, will you, Bill?".
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