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. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. ” “Well,” Mrs. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. I think not, Annabel. Sanguine they were not.
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