Drummond patted him on the shoulder. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. "But trifle with mo no longer. ” She stopped short. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. For a time they were very difficult.
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