She was beautiful once, Lucia. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. She knew, too, she must not hesitate. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction.
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