Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. ‘Alors, pig!’ she cried and lunged in quarte. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. “Mr. McClintock does it; and he knows why. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. Wild.
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