“I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. . “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. 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.
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