’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. I should like to have had you forgive me. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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