And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Your boyfriend. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Lucy could smell that Michelle was the body type that easily became cancerous, and fast. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. ” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. I thought you understood.
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