She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. Denis. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. He slid out of her. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Lost in thought, Lucy barely heard Mrs. I forget. 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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