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. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. When she awoke, her husband held her hand as 31 Sebastianus urged her to drink weak wine. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. Move. Manning called.
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