Ennison kicked it away with his foot. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. Then for a time she sat very still. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. Then she went back and mixed up the sheets in a search for particular passages. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world.
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