“I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. ” “My parents and the Vorsack’s would like you to stop by the Vorsack’s dinner party to celebrate the concert. “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. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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