She had no intention of fighting fair. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. “They all catch on,” she said.
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