’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. Gerald swore. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. To write under a pseudonym!—to be forced to disown his children! He could not write under his own name, enjoy the fruits of fame should these tales prove successful. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough.
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