It’s a damned hard thing to do. ” “I am afraid,” she said, preceding him down the narrow stairs, “that I am going to be too busy to have much time for gadding about. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. Mr.
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