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. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. Brown or Jones, I dare say. ‘Certainly those are names of the most undistinguished, and I would scorn to have them. We went to the Embassy. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. It was Annabel who spoke. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder.
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