Salvation. 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. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. ‘Quick, Gérard. “Quite right,” she said. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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