Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. 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 longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. Something has happened to change her marvellously, either that, or she wilfully deceived me and every one else in those days as to her real self. 1. I thought he was in Newgate. A father is in debt, we'll say.
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