"I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. But men of the Spurlock type, who walk straight, who are unobtrusive and intensely pale, they break swiftly and inexplicably. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor.
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