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"Bill," Anson's voice was husky with terror. "You won't let him touch me, will you, Bill?" "She's not the Minorca?" cried the Admiral. "Naw, Maurice. A symbol is a mark what means somethin'. Have you got that message I sent you? Well, give it here an' I'll show you. Now then, you see them two marks standin' up 'longside each other?".

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Billy placed the lamp on a chair and reaching over shook Anson's long, regular snore into fragments of little gasps. He shook harder and Anson sat up, sandy hair rumpled and pale blue eyes blinking in the light. "What is your name, boy?" asked the teacher. A bend of the river's path shut out the view of Old Harbour Town and the Harbour, and just when Mr Greyquill reached this turn, he saw Mr Lawrence coming along the road, having manifestly gained it by a little bridge, some distance beyond which was another way, but rather roundabout, of getting to Old Harbour from Sir William Lawrence's cottage. "Yep," Billy admitted, slowly, "that's it. He's all right in lots of ways, but in other ways——".