His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Then he stood up and repeated it again. \"Josh Durkin?\" Lucy whispered loudly. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself.
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