It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. “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. “It is true. I’m very resourceful, you know. . He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. “I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. "But, pardon my intrusion.
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