Eventually this comradeship (slightly resented by Rollo) reached a point where he could call out from the study: "Hey, Ruth!—come and tell me what you think of this. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. They laughed and talked and stared about them. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected.
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