She was my first love. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. ” She laughed. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness.
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