The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. ‘If he needed sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities. “Shhh. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell. You don’t understand. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. So long.
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