Wood uttered something like an imprecation. Lucy followed. He looked at her in some embarrassment. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. “He just wants to get laid, you know. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell.
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