Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. "I shall breathe more freely dere. They were sitting alone, Lucy. I’m not a psycho.
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