‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. His sister followed. But they were too late. “Where am I?” he muttered. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder. ‘Then let her keep her Frenchified titles to herself. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “Please forgive me, Lucy. E.
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