“Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. Moving room to room it was. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself.
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