His hand flew across the paper. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. Lucy stepped inside. “And let’s have a look at you, Vee!” said Mr. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. It seems that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the artist sister whom he was with.
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