There was. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. “Sure. "Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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