They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. Jolly nice girl, too. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. She worried for Cathy, working double shifts at the nearby family restaurant to help make ends meet. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. To-night we leave for Marseilles.
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