. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought.
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