‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ” She laughed.
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