"Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. ” “Right!” he said, and hesitated, and then got up and went into the preparationroom. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her.
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