John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. Now then. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. I don't think.
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