It was a dead calm. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard.
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