“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. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. “She”, you say. . ” Mr. " "It is folded under your pillow.
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