She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. ‘But of course. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. ‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog.
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