"How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. 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. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. Sheppard, fervently. A riding-habit is all I have seen.
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