Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. No; she'd never go back. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. For a moment, Kneebone had hesitated about giving the signal to Shotbolt, but, thinking a more favourable opportunity might occur, he determined not to hazard matters by undue precipitation. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away.
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