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The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. “What are you doing?” He cried. “Then—then we can talk things out. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. . “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward. Here, it might be anything at all.
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