" At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. “Bless you, sweetheart. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. Not fit to be dust on your boots. Aliva Trencher. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Lucy did not suspect the date would be an issue, considering Cathy's rather liberal attitude towards dating in general.
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