There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music.
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