Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. The room was dark and dusty. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. As he was about to descend his chains slightly rattled. Only that you will hurry and help Jacques.
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