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It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. It’s my choice, Lucy. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched.
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