I’m okay. It heralded you, promised you. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. Lucy wore it every day from then on. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. We fixed that. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave.
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