John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. The phone did not ring. Then he did give way a bit. “I have never forgotten. We dressed it in a little music. He laughed reassuringly.
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