’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. The first person who issued from the Lodge was Mr. Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate.
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