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. " With this, he struck the door a heavy blow. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. When she was quite sure that he was gone she took her sister’s note from the mantelpiece and slowly broke the seal. \"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. "And will swear to it?" "I will. She sat perfectly still, however. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. I'm about to leave this country for ever. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. You may go back, Marthe. This is not true at all. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed.
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