" The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. He had not remembered her as looking so small. They both listened intently. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. He is big and powerful; one of those drinkers who show it but little outwardly. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother.
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