70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. It must have cut him. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. Like carpenter, like chips. Amongst others, a person near the door, roused by the shriek, observed a man make his exit with the utmost precipitation. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. In this state, it will be easy to draw him into a snare.
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