Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ‘Good. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. But there was a face pressed to the glass. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide.
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