277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. For she and this old lady became at once friends. The chair was torture. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. People were passing in the street below. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. There were shadows under his eyes. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance.
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