“Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. "I wonder how she picked up Kanaka? On her island they don't talk Kanaka lingo. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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