“It was perhaps my fault. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. 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. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. " "All right. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty. The stench is everywhere. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one.
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