This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. ’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. ’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla.
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