She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. ‘Gad, what a mess!’ Gerald pulled free, and Melusine broke back, staring at him. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone.
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