He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt.
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