She put her hand in his to be squeezed. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace.
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