They stood back together and stared at it. “You are certain of this. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. ” Their agreement so far seemed remarkable, and yet as a home-coming the thing was a little lacking in warmth. One or the other. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. All who lived there aspired to be something greater, all who lived there had hope, even the slaves! Oh, Lucia, if you could have seen the Parthenon, or attended the plays at the Athaneum, you would know why I loved it there. Lucy and Mike watched the exchange of high school Spanish with feigned interest.
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