” He would say every time she wore it. \" Lucy replied sardonically. See paragraph 1. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream.
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