“How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. En tout cas, I am not trespassing at all. “And if she can’t have the right one? “We’ve developed such a quality of preference!” She rubbed her knuckles into her forehead. She spoke slowly. "At all events, I've not done with you. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. It did so well that they sold it in the nineties.
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