Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. ‘I, on the other hand, want to help you to marry this Englishman. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. Every one looked at Anna.
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