The change in her face was not a pleasant one. As soon as the cavalcade stopped, the sexton advanced, and, ringing a handbell, pronounced the following admonition. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient. 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. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Her anger parlayed with her confusion, as she realized that the new marriage was about as optional as the first one and her hunger was growing inside her like a weed. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception.
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