“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. He still watched her and questioned her. Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. . “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. Pah! Damned Frenchified—’ ‘If you say again,’ threatened Melusine, moving to meet him like a jungle cat poised for the kill, ‘this scorn of a thing French, monsieur le baron, I shall be compelled to give you this apoplexy of which she speaks, madame.
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