At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. "Jack is just gone back to the Condemned Hold. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply. She uncrossed her legs and lowered herself, carefully and slowly, until she lay supine.
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