It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. 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. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women. "I will have no satisfaction but his life. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. I overheard them planning your assassination. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Ludicrously loud sounds streamed from the array of speakers. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor.
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