Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. It might prove rewarding. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Then he opened them again suddenly, to find Courtlaw still by his side.
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