We’re closer than you think. . . You were only one room removed from the library, see. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. ‘I knew I should find you still here. It never is. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. A young man was playing the banjo.
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