She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. “Hey, Mike. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. ” He said to her with as much casualness as he could muster. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either.
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