And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. She would take this one back with her. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone. “Shit happens, John. ‘I have no idea. You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me.
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