" "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. “I didn’t ask you to get married. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. But he didn’t marry her. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. “Bother it all!” she swore. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. ” Lucy’s nagging worry raised its own status to full blown alarm. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. ” Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock.
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