’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. Always as black and bitter as gall. ‘Do not be alarmed, Jacques.
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