This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. The major might not indulge in this sort of flirtation in the ordinary way, but he had seen enough among his army colleagues to know just how to go about it. “Stop,” he said. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily.
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