“I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. It was not a long prayer. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. “Shopman.
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