“Mary Lucia. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. 8 or 1. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. Brown. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb.
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