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. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. ‘If ever I met such a pair of lunatics!’ ‘Give me that, Hilary,’ Gerald said at once, ignoring his remark and reaching out for the handkerchief. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure.
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