She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. This foster child’s name was Mary Lucia Iovelli, and we have photographic documents of a woman who looks exactly like you, dear. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it.
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