She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. But this was a vicomte’s sister. She would never again be lonely. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. “Heavens, look at the time!” she exclaimed. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. I was being stupid.
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