‘I hope I do not understand you. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood.
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