Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. “This is a charming place, and I have enjoyed the rest. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. If he recovers he may not accuse her. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel.
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