127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. He looked distant, irritated. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Twice we hired caterers.
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