And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. Or appeared to do so. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. A bad man, in fact. Lucy complied, slipping the tight jeans over her white underwear. She was reasonably certain why.
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