’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. Lucy wore it every day from then on. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. She took the initiative and guided his fingers inside her and bore down. It wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. It’s an instinct. Or had you not noticed?’ He sneered. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
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