’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. . " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. ” Lucy said. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse.
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