” She suddenly caught hold of his shoulders and drew him down towards her. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. Like the Valades, I imagine. “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 hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders.
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