She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. ‘Poor things. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. 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.
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