"Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. “Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. “I remember hearing something about it. "Let us sit here," she said, indicating the white sand bordering the lagoon; "and in a minute or two you will see something quite wonderful. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. . "I generally take a party. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently.
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