This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure.
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