“I do love you. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. 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. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years.
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