What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. I told him the truth. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. ’ Gerald smiled. "And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?" "You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command.
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