In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. " "Mr.
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