“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. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. " "I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither to one nor the other.
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