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“I will send you a copy,” Mr. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. . The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. First period was the time to be without her, as she was consumed with some before-school activity as Lucy barely made it to her first class in time for the bell.
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