And let us go on with our evening. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. A curious silence ensued. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. But what's to be done?" "The first thing I do," replied Jack, "will be to visit my poor mother in Bedlam. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers.
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