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Why would your mother be so impatient?” Lucy speculated. . There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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