” Her passion conquered for a moment her fear. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. I might have known it. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing.
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