She loved her lightheartedness and the frank, open way with which she greeted everybody who crossed their threshold.

She loved, too, to see her beautifully gowned and equipped and to hear the flattering comments of the neighbors on her appearance and many charms; but every now and then her ear caught an insincere note that sent a shiver through her.
She saw that the welcome Lucy gave them was not from her heart, but from her lips; due to her training, no doubt, or perhaps to her unhappiness, for Jane still mourned over the unhappy years of Lucy's life--an unhappiness, had she known it, which had really ended with Archie's safe adoption and Bart's death.

Another cause of anxiety was Lucy's restlessness.

Every day she must have some new excitement--a picnic with the young girls and young men, private theatricals in the town hall, or excursions to Barnegat Beach, where they were building a new summer hotel.

Now and then she would pack her bag and slip off to New York or Philadelphia for days at a time to stay with friends she had met abroad, leaving Ellen with Jane and Martha.