They don’t count, and I don’t care. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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