What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. There's not his peer among the peerage. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom. Her parents left two weeks later, the weather still fine.
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