“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. " When the doctor entered the bedroom and looked into the faces of the culprits, he laughed brokenly. ‘That’s what comes of disarming yourself. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes.
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