“Put her in the trunk. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. “Yes, mostly. . ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says.
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