‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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