“That’s it,” she said. It was a dead calm. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. “We are clerks in the same bank. To this day he and every one else thinks that he married Anna. Does it?” “I think it does. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. He would have to make sure of her silence. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons.
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