On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her.
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