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. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. ’ Releasing her, he turned and walked swiftly towards the door. They turned the corner that joined Michelle's street to her own. By instinct.
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