He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. She seemed honestly glad to see him. "We won't have any trouble understanding each other; same language. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality.
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