Nine years ago, I worked in this very house—had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed—twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu.
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