She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. Aren't we funny? And just as I was beginning to lose faith in human beings, to have someone like this come along! It is almost as if she were acting a rôle, and she isn't. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s.
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