Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. I know exactly what I am doing. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe.
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