253 < 32 > LUCY GOES TO DINNER Mike and Lucy trudged over to the Vorsack’s house. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. “I did everything I could to save your baby, Lucia, I have the medical knowledge to cure almost anything, but the Pestilence struck you too fast. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart.
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