“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. We’re hedged about with discretions— and all this furniture—and successes! We are successful at last! Successful! But the mountains, dear! We won’t forget the mountains, dear, ever. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy.
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