He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. “Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. . He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange.
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