She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. 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. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them.
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