She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young.
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