'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. He nodded silently, too full for words. Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted. Instantly I knew that I was going to run away that night before he returned from the neighbouring island. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. What a heat that news had wrought. This is not true at all. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, "and wear 'em yourself. “These are for you. Here, it might be anything at all. —You've your answer, Blueskin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; "it's useless to urge the matter further.
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