But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. Even the stars were strangers. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines.
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