Thames Street was wholly impassable. ” She paused. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. “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. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered.
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