Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. He's coming. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. She deserves what has befallen her. And catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck.
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