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. Mother and Son. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. The man looked hard at him. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her.
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