“Mary Lucia. ” Sir John frowned. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Little more’n a week. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read.
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