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"Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. Then she shrugged. It seemed at this moment, however, that there was not going to be any “fun”, and Captain Roding said so. “My Mom was a good lady. ” Lucy considered the irony that Michelle had spent seventeen years waiting to escape the suburban existence she had always longed to live. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. I have given up painting. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse.
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