"I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. “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 opened her eyes. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. He had an appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army. It simply doesn’t count. Leonardo would not have married her.
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