‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. That’s— that’s my private life.
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