You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. ” She fumbled with her keys and opened the front door. Papa doesn't even care, but he just goes along with whatever my Mom says. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. For a time she furnished the flat.
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