“Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right. MANNING,” she had begun. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. I’m not a lovesick boy.
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