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. The bridge was open. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. . As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. \"Mom! You’re home early!” Michelle exclaimed. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you.
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