Lucy inhaled deeply. . I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. Her mother…. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. There was only one prisoner in the ward. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. She crushed the letter in her hand.
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