Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. You understand. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. She could not help herself. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub.
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