126 Lucy drank them as the first rays of watery sunlight seeped through the mullioned windows, then put their husks in the claw-footed bathtub. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice. . “Unbelievable.
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