CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. No one would ever know what happened to him. " "He then," continued the woollen-draper, "is no longer considered—" "How, Sir?" cried Thames, advancing, "what is the meaning of your reference to my name? Have you dared to insult this lady? If so—" "Insult her!" replied Kneebone, rising, and endeavouring to hide his embarrassment under a look of defiance. Man's fate is in his own hands.
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