A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. Earles answered, glibly. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. She reloaded. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said.
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