It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. ” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. “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. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room.
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