"His shin may need rubbing. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing.
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