’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy. ‘And what is it you’re to rescue her from, I should like to know. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced.
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