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It was a different world. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner. He'll mend, I hope.
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