‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. “Well?” she said. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. Father— dead.
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