He laughed. “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. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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