She didn’t choose her man. Lucy studied Katy for the rest of the game. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. The place for reading. There is no Heaven for your mother. When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. She had been careless. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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