The man pulled up. He was there concealed, waiting her return. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “Why aren’t you in Orchestra, Lucy?” “I just.
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