"Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Wait a little; rest. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily.
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