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She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. . . Who invented them? Nobody knows. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. " "That's my own concern," rejoined Sheppard. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either.
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