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She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. We all have to kow-tow to that. No girl with a face like that…. Mike chimed in. All who lived there aspired to be something greater, all who lived there had hope, even the slaves! Oh, Lucia, if you could have seen the Parthenon, or attended the plays at the Athaneum, you would know why I loved it there. Always remember that.
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