Lucy auditioned on a borrowed violin. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. "He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap.
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