Sheila found out. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted.
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