John’s father piped up, bored with the conversation, and asked, “Where do you get your blue eyes, Lucy? What nationality are you?” “I’m mostly Italian, but I get my blue eyes from my mother, who was Gypsy. “Listen,” she said. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me.
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