In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality.
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