156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French. ” Lucy said softly. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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