That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done.
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