With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation.
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