Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Death belongs to God, young man. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant.
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