“The one who used to live at Lyndmore. “My dear sweet Lucia. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. ” “A man does,” said Manning—“a true man, anyhow. . She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly.
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