’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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