She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. “We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself.
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