“No one asks you to care for them. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. She hastened past. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. "Is it poison?" she asked. Along the inner side was a wonderfully arranged series of displayed specimens that Russell himself had prepared. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated.
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