Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. ” She smiled. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. But not today. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew.
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