This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. She cried and sobbed in fits. “They are full of the usual foolish stories. “You are very good,” she said. Not all of us, but some of us. ’ Gerald grinned.
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