Lucy's grin faded. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable. Go to her. Um. ” “It would suit me. ” “I wasn’t jesting,” said Capes, abruptly.
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