Tell me I haven’t heard. I must have been very wound up. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. Hang the wench! Roding was right. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. “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. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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