The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. She was my first love. “Sold again,” she remarked. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. "He'll not trouble you on the liquor side, Mac.
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