" So she told him the adventure of the two beachcombers in the typhoon, and how they became regenerated by their magnificent courage. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us.
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