She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. I’m like a creature just wakened up. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of.
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