’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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