She was bold and unabashed where Lucy was shy and unassuming.

This girl's eyes laughed, while Lucy's were grave and serious; yet they were the same eyes.
"Let me tell you about my lost Lucy," he said, with a glance at the unconscious Donald.
"Go ahead, if it will relieve you," she answered, demurely.
"She lived on a farm five miles from here, and she was my sweetheart.
Her mother is blind and her father old and feeble.

She worked for a dentist in the town and was accused of stealing a ring, and it nearly broke her heart to be so unjustly suspected.

In order to make good the loss of the ring, a valuable diamond--I--I got into trouble, and Lucy was so shocked and distressed that she--she lost her head--became mad, you know--and left home during the night without a word to any one.

We haven't been able to find her since." "That's too bad," remarked Eliza Parsons, buttering her bread.
"About the time that Lucy went away, you appeared at Elmhurst," continued Tom.