’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch.
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