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“Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. They walked side by side for a time. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. And look down, so. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. . ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy.
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