She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. “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. Take your pick, Mrs. ” “In the Middle Ages, from what you’re telling me. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care.
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