It was not a long prayer. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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