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. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. I wonder. It was instantly answered by the deep note of St.
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