There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Gracious, there’s the gong. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. 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. “After all, how easy the descent is, even for the greatest of us.
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