Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. She roves the blue fields of the North, with the clean North Wind on her lips and her blonde head jewelled with frost— mocking valour and hardihood! Out of the West she comes, riding the great ships and the endless steel ways that encompass the earth, and smoke comes with her and the glare of furnace fires—commerce! From the East she brings strange words upon her tongue and strange raiment upon her shoulders and the perfume of myrrh—antiquity! But oh! when she springs from the South, her rosy feet trailing the lotus, ripe lequats wreathing her head, in one hand the bright torch of danger and in the other the golden apples of love, with her eyes full of sapphires and her mouth full of pearls! "With her eyes full of sapphires and her mouth full of pearls. . " The manager made a negative sign. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons.
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