She will not confide in me. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. She would have to move on to a more lawless country soon, Mexico, Columbia, then cross the sea where she could eventually return to the chaos of Eastern Europe and the Russias. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray.
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