I spent this afternoon in detention. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Capes? Well, think what it must be to live in them—soul and mind and body! It’s fun for a man to jest at our position. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. ‘Do not speak of him.
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