“Believe what, Michelle?” Lucy asked. CHAPTER I. ” For a moment she was grave. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle.
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