Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. You see, it is that I begin to like you, even that you are of this disposition extremely interfering. His eyes were closed. I won’t even ask. To-morrow they will all be contradicted. Anna had told me that he carried always with him this bogus marriage certificate. Michelle was sounding alarm bells everywhere in Lucy’s brain, but Lucy felt the pull of a 188 greater inertia, the urge to stay put so strong that to deny it was to deny the existence of gravity. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. She felt a cheat and a sneak to his unsuspecting retreating back. “This is wonderful! I’ve been feeling that you had vanished from my world.
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