"He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. "The Captain's in such a desperate hurry, that there's no time for love-making. You may have something to conceal, you may not. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything. \"Yep.
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