Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt.
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