It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. It was not possible. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. “No, you weren’t bad in the slightest. He seemed to be thinking hard. He laughed suddenly, and released her.
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