‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. She paused. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. I was afraid of being talked about. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. 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.
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