Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. \" Lucy felt the familiar warmth surge upward from her crotch. The mighty concourse became for a moment still.
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