But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my entire life, Lucy, and that’s saying something. ” She covered her face with her hands. At noon the doctor himself arrived. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. I’m sorry Lucy.
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