I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. Lucy could see Diane’s clear dislike of her, the foster background she had come from, and the single mysterious episode with the police that had inflamed the gossips from all the corners of town. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet.
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