‘You mean—’ ‘Hilary!’ Lucy turned excited eyes back to Alderley. Voilà tout. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. ’ ‘Please forgive, milor’, but my wife, and even I myself, have yet very much trouble with English.
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