\" Lucy said. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. Her little white hand stole across the table. I just don’t know where to start. It was a mass of knick-knacks. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her.
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