’ ‘Get on, Hilary, do,’ begged Lucilla. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. . He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. She hated living like that. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her.
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