I have given up painting. She is my only family. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. Then Mike came along. “You haven’t told a lot of people in school that I’m a vampire, have you?” Lucy asked Michelle in earnest. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong.
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