‘But he must have—’ ‘Nicholas Charvill never did anything he must do,’ Mrs Sindlesham said evenly. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species.
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