“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. I waited for her at the back. ‘I begin to ask myself why it is that I wish to become of these people. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. . Denis, did you say? I hope that no one of our friends has met with an accident. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. Wood, leaping from the bed.
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