" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. There were no mourners. . Go easy. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. ’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him.
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