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. It filled her with indefinable fear. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. Hopefully. “We mustn’t have any unpleasantness, and Mr. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full.
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