He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. 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. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. “I have a message from your sister. I want my freedom. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. His eyes closed. She brought the unconscious man down. Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. Then Ann Veronica passed on toward the tea in the garden, which was dotted with the elite of Morningside Park society, and there she was pounced upon by Lady Palsworthy and given tea and led about. The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her.
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