u something. I think you are the most beautiful person I
ever saw in my life, and take pride in saying so.' Wasn't it awful? I
didn't dare look at them--but it seemed all right afterwards. I
suppose she told her people that of course he was mad. So he is, in a
way; but it's quite nice madness. I won't say that Jimmy never goes
too far--but nobody could be nicer about it afterwards than Jimmy--no
one. He's awfully sorry, and contrite, and all that. Most people like
him amazingly. I suppose he's told you about our father? He loves all
the stories there are about him ..." and so on. Vera Nugent was a
great talker.

Lucy at her prayers, Lucy in her bed, had large gaps in the sequence
of her thoughts. Safety lay only with Lancelot. She could centre
herself in him. Lancelot it was who with forceful small fingers, and
half-shy, half-sly eyes, finally closed down hers, with a "Go to
sleep, you tired mamma."

CHAPTER XIII

MARTLEY THICKET (2)

The day that succeeded was prelude to the night, sufficient to show
Lucy her way into that spacious unknown. By her own desire she passed
it quietly, and had leisure to review and to forecast.

She put it to herself, roughly, thus. I may guess, but I don't know,
who loves me so. It cannot continue--it shall stop this very night.
But this one night I must go to him, if only to say that it can never
be again. And it won't be again; I am sure of that. However he may
take it, whatever he may be driven to, he will do what I say must be.
As for me, I don't think women can ever be very happy. I expect I
shall get used to it--one does, to almost anything, except
toothache. And I have Lancelot. She put all this quite frankly to
herself, not shirking the drab outlook or the anguish of doing a thing
for the last time--always a piercing ordeal for her. As for James, if
she thought of him at all, it was with pity. Poor dear, he really was
rather dry!

She ought to have been very angry with Urquhart, but she was not. "The
first time he did it, I understand. I am sure he had a sudden thought,
and couldn't resist it. It must have been more than half fun, and the
rest because it was so romantic. The other times were much more wrong.
But I'm not angry with him. I ought to be--but I'm not--not at all. I
suppose that is because I couldn't be angry with him if I tried ...
not if he did much more.... No, I am sure he doesn't hold me cheap.
He's not at all like that. James might--only James holds