She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. 238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. . He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision.
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