He watched her, savoring her curious attention. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. She could not say who, not yet. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day.
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