All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in other respects the arrangement must be exclusive. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand.
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