‘Do not speak of him. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. “There are policemen—and buses. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary.
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