“I have not quarrelled with her. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. ‘Well! I hadn’t no notion as he’d got hisself married again. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. “My dear sweet Lucia. ” “It was a delightful piece of good fortune that I should have met you,” he answered. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. I have never wept since that day. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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