The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. 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. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. CHAPTER XIII.
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