” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. ” He smiled and buzzed her in to the glass doors, which opened by an unseen electronic hand. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did.
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