I've always been more or less music-mad. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. ” “I suppose so. ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. It loves to sit on your knee. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality.
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