Lockwood strolled out of his room wearing the crispest, most dapper tuxedo and black bow tie I’d ever seen. His hair was combed back, his rapier sparkling; it hung at his side on a silver chain. “Lucy, you look delightful,” he said. “George, you’ll have to do. Oh, here’s something for you, Luce. Might go well with that excellent dress.” He took my hand and placed in it a necklace of pretty silver links, with a small diamond suspended as a pendant. It was really very beautiful. “What?” I stared at it. “Where’d you get this?” “Just something I had. I suggest you close your mouth when you wear
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crying
