’ ‘What, even less delightful than Gerald?’ enquired Lucilla, her eyes dancing. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. No, not one little bit. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Slowly and reluctantly she came to realize that Vivie Warren was what is called an “ideal. I looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils.
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