He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Lucy stepped inside. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. “I think that’s the right name. ” “Happy Birthday to you. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl.
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