He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. He'll mend, I hope. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. CHAPTER XXIV. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. 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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