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 expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. It began as a joke. " At this moment, Rachel and Blueskin returned. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience.
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