Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone.
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