Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. I do swear. “Ugh!” she said. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. ” “But didn’t you say some more about that ball?” “I said everything I could say as soon as I realized she was trying to avoid the topic. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. Let’s have an advance round of applause for our concertmaster, 249 Lucy Albert!” Lucy was horrified. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk.
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