Supper was over. He was in a curious state of desperation. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. ‘I see that Leonardo was right. .
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