Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else. " And he tossed it carelessly into the bottom of the boat. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them.
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