‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. Lucy and Mike watched the exchange of high school Spanish with feigned interest. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. Ruth did not consider it necessary, however, to add that she had not notified this aunt of her coming, that she did not know whether the aunt still resided in Hartford or was underground. Michelle blinked rapidly and Lucy could hear her heart speeding up. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. Nor Jacques. Be on your guard.
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