” “Believe me that I have answered you wisely,” she said, in a gentler tone, “wisely for you too, as well as myself. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. He stabbed into her with brute force. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties.
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