She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. The tension was palpable. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil.
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