" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. "Hear the letter," said Ireton, breaking the seal. John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. Tell me what you think the island is like. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. She felt she was bound in honor to tell the whole affair to Manning sooner or later. This—all this swamps them.
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