Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. ‘It is of no use to try to stop me. Anyhow, that is how things are. Under the somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a recent use of the powder puff. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. But, what brought you here?" "Excuse me, Sir Rowland.
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