" "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. This—all this swamps them. “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. I have heard of you from my husband. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. " The object of this discussion sat motionless. ’ ‘You speak it very well,’ Gerald said encouragingly.
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