No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. \"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. He came over to me. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench.
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