The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. He patted the hand on his sleeve. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. You are you. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. .
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