She was beautiful once, Lucia. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. “A lot of these people will be going presently. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. He divorced her. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. Put your arms around her and tell her you love her. You know the sort of thing. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep.
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