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"No," said Billy, "I got to be movin' on." The man named Tom picked up the lantern and moved on, cursing the rain and the saplings that whipped his face at every step. His pal followed without a word. "No," she said in low tense tones, "your son don't need me. I'm nuthin' to him. Sometimes I think—I think he cares—'cause I'm longin' fer it, I guess. But somehow he seems to be lookin' beyond me to someone else.".

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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. Ringold nodded approval. "All right, Neighbor Watland. Anybody else got anythin' to say?" When he was there he bade Paul go forward and tell Mr Pledge that dinner awaited him. This privilege was Pledge's because, though he was the ship's boatswain and also her carpenter, he kept watch and headed the starboard division of the crew as second mate. Billy went down into his pocket and drew forth a furry object about the size of a pocket knife and held it under his chum's eyes..