He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch.
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