He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. “Where am I?” he muttered. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. She was still good at following orders. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. ” He greeted her. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket.
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