Gerald sighed. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. She was making it up. " "I have no people—anybody who would care. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. It’s horrible to think of you!” “You’re an awful brick, Teddy!” she said.
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