From time to time, however, he was baffled. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. I thought that he was dead. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things.
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