I will dedicate my books to you. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. Profoundly. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. My natural parents both died a very long time ago and I have been on my own for a great deal of my existence. But I want to know whether in such an event you would stand by me?” She held out her hand.
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