The only thing they don’t fight over is the addition. “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. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. It's my way when I'm ruffled.
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