CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Where's Jonathan?" Inquiries were instantly made after that individual, but he was nowhere to be found. “Am I dull?” she said. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer.
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