127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door.
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