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As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. She turned her head away sharply. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart.
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