Shortly a man descended laboriously. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. “Let us escape,” she said. Her voice recalled him.
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