The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. Now keep still. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked.
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