“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. It is putting all my dreams out of joint.
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