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Updated: June 9, 2025
The fair Agatha, he said, after being invited by him, at noon, in the name of Bishop Demetrius, to a meeting that evening, had reached the ferryhouse at about sunset.
Swiftly the ferryboat crossed the North River, crowded with boats. Then it ran into the slip there was the rattle of the ratchets as the line wheels spun around, and finally the gates were opened. Richard had reached New York at last. "Gracious, what a busy place!" This was the thought that ran through Richard's mind as he stepped from the ferryhouse to West Street, in New York City.
But how to get from that ferryhouse is a question I cannot resolve. All these circumstances are mentioned that I may have your advice, meaning that of your husband. And, after all, it is possible that I may not be able to find a passage either to Charleston or Georgetown, and so be obliged to sail for New-York.
I never says a word; but just as he reaches over to spring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at the bottom, bringin' him up all standin'. "Say, this ain't no ferryhouse," says I. "Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?" "I ain't any Fourth-ave. antique," says I; "but I'm over seven. Was you wantin' to see anyone special?" He seems to think that's a joke.
The fair Agatha, he said, after being invited by him, at noon, in the name of Bishop Demetrius, to a meeting that evening, had reached the ferryhouse at about sunset.
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