’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. The small predator subconsciously acknowledged the larger one. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent.
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