“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. Absolutely. 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. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. After all, life had still its pulsations. And I wish you all the happiness in the world.
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