Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. ” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful.
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