He had been very odd last night, when she'd got in. She satthere, sipping her whisky, wondering what she would feelnext. ''That's what counts. 'So don't you worry about her, old chap.
''It would me,' said Octavia, 'and it would you, surely. We could have a drinkmaybe. We're off to Tuscany in aweek. No, that wasn't a tripod, Lucilla thought wretchedly,she knew exactly what it was; it was a surveyor'sinstrument, and they weren't
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