"He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. ‘Leave it, imbecile. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well.
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