58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. ’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. We had not then recovered from the shock. "I have nearly done," replied the stranger. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically.
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