‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. ” John approached Lucy, handing the bouquet to her. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. He was like a man beside himself.
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