Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. . Get out your pad and pencil.
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