During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. Unless he has killed someone. And this clear-visioned child had comprehended that only half the rogues were really ill. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. CHAPTER XX. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree.
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