Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. His safety must be looked to.
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